


Three Little Words

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Points of View, Romance, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-24
Updated: 2006-09-24
Packaged: 2018-12-27 01:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12071280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: It's all about those three little words, or is it?





	Three Little Words

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: Set at the end of 5.10.  


* * *

It's really strange. You would expect that with the explosion, and Mikey in hospital and all the shit that will come my way now, things would be fucking confusing. But for once, everything's clear as ... well, crystal, and I know exactly what I've to do now. Of course, I still tell myself that I'm going back to Babylon because it's my club and I have to check things out. I'm not going back because I simply _know_ that Justin will be there still, playing boy scout or whatever WASPish thing he's doing. Not at all. He has nothing to do with... 'Oh shut the fuck up, Kinney!'  
  
I guess I knew this would happen sooner or later – not the bombing, no. Never that. But I would have gone after Justin, eventually. That much was clear the moment I won that fucking bet and didn't claim my prize. It's as if ... that bet, it was my last farewell to the fucking _Stud of Liberty Avenue_ , and while I intended to have a fucking spree in sunny Aussieland as well, it doesn't really matter that my trip fell through. I'm ready... Not for picket fences and a little house in fucking Stepford, no. I'm ready for the next step. And I'm taking it as I hold him in my arms, glad that he's here – warm and alive.  
  
I'm telling him, finally giving him the words he needs to hear. But the moment I do it, I realise that my timing is for shit. I know Justin. And I know that he somehow will think I'm only saying "I love you" because of what happened tonight. Because I almost lost him again. And that's just bullshit. Yes, I was fucking scared, I said as much, but that has nothing to do with those three _big_ words. I loved him since – since fucking forever, or so it seems. I was just too fucking terrified to actually admit it – to myself, to him... Biggest coward in the whole fucking world – that's me.  
  
But I've had my share of running away, so I pack him into the 'Vette and take him home. And I know what he expects now. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Sunshine. But for once, fucking isn't on top of my list of priorities. I sit him down on the sofa, and for one moment I'm taken back to that night when I let him walk out again. 'Not this time. You won't let him do that this time!' I won't. _Can't!_ The weeks without him – they were worse than the months he was in L. _fucking_ A.  
  
Pouring myself a shot of Beam, I see him study me intently, like he's trying to figure out what the fuck's going on. Here we are, in desperate need of a shower, sitting on my white sofa. And I'm not freaking out. Shit! I know that I have to make the first move, and I'm hesitating for just one moment before I tell him... About the bet. He knows, of course. The grapevine's still working perfectly, and I can see that he's not impressed. Well, get in line, Sunshine. I can still hear Linz giving me a lecture, telling me what a sack of shit I was... But he doesn't know the most important thing, and when I tell him, his eyes widen, and he gasps... I guess that means one point for me.  
  
I'm not sure if he realises just what it means that I had this pretty hot guy in my bed and didn't fuck him – and that I even allowed him back into Babylon. I don't know if he gets what I'm really telling him here. But I can't – _mustn't_ – explain it to him. If he doesn't understand it, then we are truly fucked, and there's no chance... However, he's fucking smart, and he slowly begins to smile – not his Sunshine smile, but it's a start.  
  
"Justin..." For a second, words fail me – and that's really bad since I'm in advertising and shit... But then I know what I want to say, what I have to say... "I don't want life in fucking _suburbia_. I don't want the whole _house and garden and charming neighbours_ shit. At least not yet." The thought of Mikey and Ben in their pretty little home makes me sick. And while I know that Mikey was right when he said that Justin wasn't happy, I also know that _this_ , this fucking imitation of breeders wouldn't make him happy, either. Even though he thinks so now. It's just like that romance bullshit. It's not real. And it certainly isn't what he needs.  
  
I take his hand in mine and lace our fingers. "I want you to come back home." _Home._ I never allowed him to call the loft his fucking home! 'Stupid fucker. You couldn't give him even that, could you?' He's shaking his head like I knew he would. Cause he thinks once he's back, I'll go on like I did before. I guess he's not the only one who's _on to_ someone. "I'm not proposing or anything, but... If you come back, things will be different. I'm not saying that I won't fuck anyone else, but I won't do it here, and I won't force you to join..." He frowns at that, apparently not believing a word I'm saying. Or maybe he simply doesn't quite understand all of this. And that wouldn't be surprising considering what happened today.  
  
So I'm cupping his face and tell him again. "I love you, Justin. And I want you to come back." He gets it now. There are no fucking radio cars around. No ambulances. No bleeding people, no corpses... He's starting to believe it now. He's leaning in, and we're kissing, grime and all. When I draw back, I can see that he's close to crying and I push my tongue into my cheek and say, "And I fucking want a shower, now!" He swallows, and then gives me a watery smile and drags me up and into the bathroom.  
  
We're standing under the spray, basking in the warmth of the water, when he asks, "You really mean it, right? No more tricks at the loft?" I shake my head, and the little shit simply has to add, "And no more STDs?" I swat his ass and he giggles. "Well, I guess picket fences aren't that great anyway." You don't say... "But eventually I want a home that isn't just _four walls and a floor, and top of the line appliances, and stainless steel countertops, and imported Italian fixtures_..." Fuck! I really can't say anything around him that he won't remember.  
  
"You just want to turn the loft into your studio, because rumour has it the fucking hole you call your home right now isn't all that great..." He grins and pokes me, and before long we're both laughing like loonies, tickling each other as if there's no tomorrow. Then, of course, we fuck ... first in the shower, and then on the bed, until we're both fucking tired and want nothing more than to just fall asleep. But I've to go back to the club and see what's going on, and what I can do to help...  
  
Once again, he sees right through me, and where that gave me the creeps at some point, I'm now ... I don't know ... relieved, I guess. Cause I don't have to spell it all out to him. And that feeling – it's fucking mutual. Because even though he didn't say that he'll clutter the loft with his shit again, I know he will. Anyway, he's grabbing his clothes the moment I turn to put on something, and murmurs, "We should just take a cap, cause neither of us is really awake enough to drive..."  
  
I swirl around, and I know that he expects me to snap at him. I would have, only a few weeks ago... But now... I just grin. "Smart and a good fuck! I knew there was a reason why I love you..." His smile lights the loft, and I can't quite believe how easy this is... How easy it is to say those words. How fucking simple it is to give him what he always wanted... I'm letting him take fucking care of me, and I'm not even scared of it anymore. It feels right, somehow. Just like it feels right that we go back to the club together, that we face this fucking mess as a ... as a fucking _couple_. 'See, the heavens don't come crashing down on you, you shit! You could have had this years ago...'  
  
Well, I guess I simply wasn't ready for it. And strangely enough, I don't think it was _those_ three words that got us here, standing side by side, listening to what Deb's fucking boyfriend is saying. It was a little bit of courage on my part, and a lot of faith on his. Those words ... they were just a bonus – for me. Cause I finally allowed myself to say them, to believe in them. Three little words...  
  
  
FIN.


End file.
